War Bringer (32 page)

Her hips thrust against his hand of their own accord. She was breathing in short huffs. Her body tensed…waiting…waiting. His fingers went still. He looked up at her. She blinked, her body easing back from the edge.

“Say you’re not leaving.”

“No.”

“Fiona. Say it.”

“I can’t.”

He withdrew from her. He went into the closet. She heard him open his safe, then heard the sound of something heavy being set in there before he locked it again.
 

He picked up his knife from his nightstand, then knelt by her feet again. She watched him warily as he fastened his KA-BAR sheath to her ankle.
 

“You have the tool you need so that you can do what you have to when you leave.”

“Kelan—” She sighed and bent down to remove it.
 

“Leave it.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“So you’re not leaving.”

She didn’t answer that. His lips thinned. Even in the dim light, she could tell the tension about him deepened.

He lifted the corner of his blankets. “Get in.”

She stood. His knife sheath was heavy, the leather hard. It felt like an ankle monitor. She slipped under his arm and scooted across the bed. Bending her knee, she tried to unbuckle the thing before he got in bed.

“Leave it,” he ordered.

He rolled her over onto her belly. Catching her hands in one of his, he kneed her legs apart. His hand stroked her back. It was big and warm, and his light touch sent shivers through her.

He kissed her at the base of her neck. His mouth moved over her shoulder, then her spine, which he followed all the way down to her ass. He bit one cheek.
 

She gasped.
 

He moved his hand between her legs and slipped two fingers in to her. It felt intoxicating to surrender so completely to him. She felt safe…and manipulated when he withdrew his fingers.

She pushed up to her knees. “Kelan Shiozski—don’t you dare use sex to control me.”

He was sucking her juices from his fingers. “Don’t leave me.”

“King will not stop.”

“Neither will I.” He put his finger in her mouth. “Taste yourself.” He smiled and licked his lips. “You’re like strawberries and cream. Just like I knew you would be.”

She touched her tongue to his finger, tasting something sweet and tangy. She couldn’t take much more. She pulled free of his hold, then straddled his thighs. Glaring at him, she unfastened his jeans.
 

The moon had shifted outside, throwing more light into the room. He was watching her. She stroked the wide ridge of him through his boxers. His cock tensed and jumped at her touch. She smiled at him as she pulled his briefs down, freeing him. “Two can play that game.”

He arched his back and pushed his jeans and briefs down to his thighs, giving her full access to him. “Do your worst.”

She caught him in both hands, then leaned down and kissed him, belatedly realizing she really didn’t know what to do with him. He seemed to like the kiss, so she did that some more, up and down the length of him.

“Lick me.”

She resettled herself lower between his legs so that she could get a better angle on him, and then did what he suggested, running her tongue up the hard length of him. His lips pulled back from his teeth as he hissed a breath.

She did it again, then wrapped her lips about him sideways and moved up and back. He took hold of himself and pushed his cock toward her mouth. “Take me in your mouth.”

She moved up to kneel over him, then lowered her head, taking him in her mouth, flicking her tongue over him as if she was Frenching his mouth. She wrapped a hand around the base of him—he was too long and too wide to fit all of him in her mouth, so she focused her efforts on the swollen crown.

Kelan took as much of her virginal caresses as he could. He pulled her off him before it was too late. Coming in her mouth was a lesson for another day. Just the thought of that almost sent him over the edge.
 

He sat up fast, then lifted and turned her. She was still on her knees. He bent over her and entered her without prelude. She was wet and ready for him. He leaned over her, bracing his arms on either side of hers, pumping into her like a boy who had no control.

Because he didn’t. He’d almost lost her tonight. Again.

He kissed her shoulder blade, buried his face in her spine. And then he reached for her breasts, feeling them move with each thrust. As soon as he palmed one, she cried out, and her body banged against his.
 

He could feel her orgasm overtake her, the tremors, the squeezing of her inner muscles. He pushed up against her and slammed into her, then groaned as his own orgasm hit.

When it was over, he eased himself from her body then kicked off his jeans. He moved the covers and brought her back up to the top of the bed, settling her against him as he waited for her tears.
 

He was coming to love that emotional side of her. Maybe it was just arrogance that he was pleased he pleasured her to tears each time.

“I love you.” He could feel how tightly she was wound. “Talk to me, Fiona. We are two parts of one whole. If you break, I break.”

“Kelan.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his throat. “I never want to see you hurt.”

He chuckled. “Says the woman who is going to cut my heart out of my chest while it still beats.”

“You know I’m not going to do that.”

“Then I’ll never be hurt, because I’ll never be without you.”

“No, you’ll be hurt because you’re with me.”

He caught her knee, then pulled her leg up so that he could take off the knife. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll talk about it more in the morning.”

* * *

Angel was in bed, trying to sleep, when there was a knock on his door. He checked the clock—it was late for any fun and games.

He threw the covers off and went to see whom it was. Rocco stood at his threshold. His hands were in his front pockets up to his thumbs. His shoulders were hunched. His eyes looked wrecked.
Goddamn
. Angel didn’t ask any questions. He just went back into his room, pulled on a pair of jeans, then followed his friend down to the gym.

* * *

Val knocked on Owen’s door. A thin line of light showed beneath it, so he knew his cousin was still up.
 

“Come.” Owen’s call was muffled through the door.

He was lying on his bed, watching some rerun on TV. Val plopped down next to him. Val took the controller and changed the channel.
 

Owen looked over at him, a slight grin on his face. “Have a bad dream?”

Val shrugged. “Maybe.”

Owen took the controller back and returned to the channel he’d been watching. “You did good with Fiona’s hair.” He grinned. “I’ll admit I was afraid you might start moonlighting there when you took her.” His grin became a smile. “We’re too heavily invested in Blade’s place to get run out of town now.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t run out of town back then.”

“You sure as hell were. How do you think you got into West Point so easily?”

“You pulled strings to get me in.”

“I had no leverage. Your dad did that.”

“I thought you did.”

Owen shrugged. “I got him to work it from his end with his connections. I wanted you away from him, before one or both of you ended up dead. You set some sniper records at West Point that still stand today.”

Val grinned. “I think dad almost had an apoplexy when he heard I applied for an MOS of Barber.”

Owen laughed. “There was no way the Army was going to let a sniper of your caliber cut hair.”

“I knew that. And Dad should’ve known that too. He just never gave me much credit for anything.”

“Maybe he would have if you hadn’t tortured him so much.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have tortured him so much if he'd ever tried to just accept me as I am.”

Owen turned to look at him. “And maybe you’ve got to do that for yourself first before expecting him to. If you quit giving a shit what he thought, he’d figure you’re ready to stand on your own.”

Val shrugged. “Whatevs. I’m over it. The way I see it, the old man got the son he wanted, so it’s all good.” He looked at Owen. “I’ve been wondering something lately. You think our dads were involved in this Omni World Order shit?”

Owen hit mute and stared at Val. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“We know from Blade’s mom that it was in full swing at least a generation before all of us. The progress Rocco’s making with those docs she hid indicates it was well underway long before that, even. I’m just trying to make the pieces fit the puzzle.”
 

Owen’s face was like stone.

“Max was created for the Red Team—set up in a sting, then raised to be a warrior in prison. How do you get into the Army with a record like his…unless he was created by the Army? I don’t see a connection with Selena or Angel, but Kit was Blade’s handler before either of them even knew what a handler was. And Rocco—he was just a windfall. Best to grab him and use his skills than to let them fall to the enemy. But look at how Greer’s grandfather trained him. He was taking out enemies long before his kills were sanctioned.”

Val watched Owen, wanting to catch his carefully managed expression when he said this next bit. “And weren’t Greer’s grandpa and your dad instrumental in getting the Red Team started?”

“How did you know about Greer’s grandfather?”

“Greer and Blade have been doing some digging.”

“And they didn’t bring it to the team?”

“It’s only a fragment of info, which doesn’t seem to be news to you.” He held Owen’s gaze. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You aren’t wrong, but I don’t know what any of it means. Yet. It’s why I got out of the Army. I don’t like dancing at the end of strings someone else is pulling.”

“And you didn’t think to fill us all in?”

“On what? A conspiracy theory I have about”—he made air quotes—“anarchists united who want to rule the world? Who the fuck would believe that?”

“Well, obviously your dad and Greer’s grandpa did, else they wouldn’t have started the Red Team. And they got buy-in from somewhere in the government, or the Red Team would have been a no-go.”
 

Val went silent a minute as he processed the impact of that. He got up and started walking around Owen’s room. “So what’s the real nature of your relationship with the rogue Red Teamer you’ve been wanting us to find—Wendell Jacobs?”

“Our fathers were friends. His dad was—”

“U.S. Senator Dean Jacobs from Virginia, founder of the Red Team unit,” Val finished for him. “Shit, O. You seriously didn’t think we’d figure this out?”

“I knew you would. But I didn’t want my theories to steer you. I want you to prove my suspicions wrong…or right. I don’t want to influence you.”

Val looked back at Owen. “Did you know, when you started Tremaine Industries, about the Omni World Order?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know when you and Wendell joined the Red Team?”

“Yes.” Owen stood. “I knew when we were boys. I knew the Order killed my dad.”

“And you didn’t tell me then?”

The stillness in Owen’s face cut like a knife. “You were four years younger than me. You weren’t afraid of anything. You were so busy being your sisters’ darling little brother and the bane of your father’s existence. Life was a game to you, a thing full of joy, a thing to laugh at. How could I tell you there were monsters out there? Monsters who’d killed my dad and might very well be after me?”
 

Owen blinked away the anger in his eyes. “I needed you to be normal. I needed you to be exactly like you were because it meant not everything was tainted. And yeah, I made sure you got into West Point, and I brought you into the Red Team.” He walked over until he was almost nose to nose with Val. “I did it because in every sense that matters, you are my brother, and I couldn’t stand losing you, too.”

Val’s jaw worked as he fought to calm his breathing. “Maybe you haven’t worked this out yet, in your fear-frozen brain, but you’ve got a whole bunch of brothers now. And a sister. Don’t blindfold them. Bring this to them. We all know the origins of the Red Team, but I doubt any of us have put together Wendell and his father the senator. Greer knows about his grandfather, but maybe not about your and Wendell’s dads. We’ve all seen the banners and the extensive infrastructure the Omni World Order is building. Right about now, your conspiracy theory isn’t sounding like random shit you made up.”

Owen glared at him. “I’ll bring it to the team when the time is right.”

Val shook his head. “Fuck you.” He pivoted on his heel and slammed out of Owen’s room.

* * *

Val needed to work off some steam. He was halfway to the gym building before he realized that he’d gone to Owen’s room to tell him about Ace’s butterfly tattoo, which he still hadn’t done.

He shoved through the doors to the weight room, then stopped short. Rocco and Angel were sparring, but it wasn’t a friendly match. They hadn’t even heard him come in, so intent were they on killing each other.

“What the hell, you guys?” He went to break them apart, which was easier said than done. When he finally separated them, he held a shoulder of each. “Wanna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

Both men continued to glare at each other. Val now knew the bruises he’d seen on them weren’t left over from King’s Warren. “Shake it off. We’re on the same team, remember?”

Angel stepped back first. His bare back was a mass of knotted muscles. They wore boxing gloves, but no helmets or teeth guards. It was like they had a death wish. Val looked at Rocco. Maybe one of them really did.